Today I was getting ready for work when I slipped on my favorite pair of skinny jeans. These jeans are so soft and have so much elastic in them that they could be the equivalent of pajama jeans, but of course more socially acceptable. They are high waisted so I don’t have to worry about my rear hanging out and to my amazement they are two sizes smaller than my normal size. You would think that being super comfortable and the instant boost of self-confidence when I look at the size on the tag would be enough to make them my favorite jeans, but there is one more reason why they are my favorite jeans; they were on sale for only $9 at Kohls!

Yes! I love these jeans!

As I pondered all the aforementioned positives about these jeans. A thought occurred to me; why have I never purchased Vera Wang before? Doesn’t she make wedding dresses? But like a jig-saw puzzle, I slowly started to piece the picture together.

OMG! I’m wearing mom jeans!

super comfy √

fake size √

Super cheap √

department store √

At first I was devastated by this revelation. I’m 35 years old. I’m too young for mom jeans. But on second thought, am I too young? What is 35? If 40 is middle aged then is 35 like the equivalent of a tween, a pre-middle aged woman, a priddle? I’m a priddle, teetering on the edge of middle-age. So now that I have succumbed to the idea that I am getting old, where do I shop?

Nowhere!

Why? Because pre-middle aged women are in denial that they are getting old. No company in there right mind would advertise the shocking truth to these women. So instead I see young, hipster advertisements for the 20 year olds or the nice cardigans and slacks for the clearly over 55 community. Clear distinction between the young and old but yet, here I am swimming in the abyss of being almost middle aged. I can choose to shop the younger, hipster clothes and take the chance that one of my students is wearing the same outfit, only better because gravity and children hasn’t wrecked havoc on her body or I can sport some nice slacks, a cardigan and go play some Bridge at the local community center.

I’m 35 and I own a pair of mom jeans. I never thought this day would happen but here I am, looking in the mirror staring at my mom jeans. I guess growing old is inevitable and I don’t care what anyone says, these jeans look good!